


Push-Pull

by quietx



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Nonbinary Character, Nonbinary Kozume Kenma, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Riding, Top Akaashi Keiji, mentioned BokuAkaKuroKen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-14
Updated: 2020-12-14
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:13:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28062975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quietx/pseuds/quietx
Summary: Kenma's been a brat all day. Akaashi teaches them a lesson.(just akaken pwp with top!akaashi)
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 5
Kudos: 74





	Push-Pull

**Author's Note:**

> dedicated to tiff and arti. thanks, guys.
> 
> also i use they/them for kenma

There’s a distinct push-pull to their relationship. 

“You used to be so pretty, Keiji,” they say, looking down at an old photo of them from high school on their phone.

Akaashi rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to be rude.”

For the morning, that’s all. 

In the afternoon, they try again:

“You have the worst bags under your eyes, don’t you want to get some rest?” Kenma pressures, knowing  _ damn  _ well that Akaashi was running on less sleep than was ideal.

Akaashi doesn’t say anything in return, just shoots a tired, searing glare towards his work-from-home partner from the day. 

The rest of the late afternoon and early evening pass as usual, barbs passing between them, Kenma inching closer and closer to him in the room, until they’re seated next to each other. 

It’s  _ late,  _ now, the sun long down, and Akaashi is  _ still  _ tapping away on that damn laptop with those stupid,  _ stupid  _ earbuds in, and how the  _ hell  _ does he not have a blue light headache yet? Is he perfect? Unaffected by reality itself? 

Kenma doesn’t care if blue light doesn’t affect him. They’ll affect him.

They settle on their knees in front of Akaashi, just beside him, chin resting on his thigh. 

Akaashi gives them a cursory, evaluating glance, raising an eyebrow. And then, like the absolute  _ asshole  _ that he is,  _ ignores  _ them. 

Kenma pushes his laptop shut. 

Akaashi makes an incredulous sound. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“Kuroo and Bokuto are away,” they say, pushing the laptop off his lap and pushing his thighs open to settle between them. “Don’t you want the alone time?” They blink their wide, glittering eyes up at their partner for the evening and offers a soft smile. The way Akaashi is biting his lip…

They’ve won.

Akaashi reaches down and tangles a hand into their hair, pulling Kenma up to actually settle into his lap, gripping at their sweatpants covered thighs. Kenma immediately goes for his neck, relishing the hand that’s still tugging on their hair.

“You’ve been such a  _ brat  _ today, you know that? I have deadlines,” Akaashi grits out through his teeth, though he presses Kenma in further, tilting his head so that they can drag their teeth properly across his jugular. 

“Quit your job,” Kenma mumbles, sucking a pretty red bruise just beneath Akaashi’s jaw. Akaashi hates it when they leave marks. “I’ll take care of you.” They roll their hips down once, already half hard in their sweats. They’ve been thinking about Akaashi’s hands  _ all day.  _ It really is unfair, how pretty those long slender fingers are. He bites at his nails so often, and Kenma can’t stand the way they shine with spit when he pulls them from his mouth. 

“Shut up.” Akaashi dips his head down now, kissing them harshly. He sucks on their bottom lip, catching it between his teeth, before pressing in fully, his tongue in Kenma’s mouth, dragging it across their palate. Kenma sighs into the contact, their eyes squeezing closed as Akaashi’s hands slide up to cup their ass and push their groins together.

Kenma feels like they’re drowning, pulling back from Akaashi’s lips to gasp and moan at the way Akaashi grinds up against them. 

“ _ Keiji, _ ” they breathe out, pushing their hips down. They work now with their hands on Akaashi’s torso, pushing their hands up under the fabric of his shirt to rub a thumb over one of his nipples. Akaashi squeaks at the contact. Kenma moves down again to thoroughly cover Akaashi’s neck in bruises, and Akaashi goes to work teasing his hands at Kenma’s waistband, sliding them down just to tease him.

When Akaashi’s neck is thoroughly decorated, Kenma goes to shove his shirt off, carrying on their slow pathway downwards, pressing kisses into his pecks, rolling their tongue over the buds of his nipples and loving the way he squirms under their touch. 

It’s short-lived, though. Keiji shoves them down to the ground again.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it? To be on your knees for me?” Akaashi asks, raising a critical eyebrow. “Strip. And take mine off too.” 

Kenma stands, shakily for a moment, pulling their sweatshirt off over their head, and tugging off their sweats as well--no underwear. They’re just at home today, why bother? Akaashi resists the urge to roll his eyes, even as Kenma drops back down, pulling Akaashi’s jeans off him, licking a line along the elastic line of his briefs, biting at his hip harshly. Akaashi’s hips buck upwards suddenly, which Kenma takes as a welcome invitation to palm him, using their tongue and teeth along the seams and waistband of his underwear, but never putting their mouth on him. 

They spend  _ ages  _ settled there, mouth nearly going dry from the amount of spit that’s cooling on Keiji’s thighs. Akaashi curls around them, a hand squeezing Kenma’s shoulder as they take their time. Small, sharp bites. Long, slow drags of the tongue. They take the edge of the fabric between their teeth and  _ pull,  _ making sure that Keiji’s eyes are on them the entire time. 

The teasing is agony, and it’s only with one final bite to the tendon on the inside of his thigh that Akaashi decides he’s had enough.

“Kozume.  _ Kenma.  _ Get your mouth on me. Now.” 

Kenma pouts, just pressing their lips to him through the fabric, wetting his tip, using their tongue to lap at him, barely making contact. They work their own hand down their body, loosely fisting themself, rolling their hips slowly, letting their eyes flutter shut. 

Akaashi yanks at Kenma’s hair, pulling his own briefs off, and hooking one of his knees around their neck. 

“ _ Now,  _ Kenma,” he insists. Kenma’s smirk drives him crazy, but they obey,  _ finally _ licking a long, slow stripe from his base to the tip, wrapping his lips just around the head and sucking lightly, pinching at the inside of Akaashi’s thigh with their hand, rolling their tongue with every sharp pinch. 

Akaashi keens at the feeling. The press of nails into soft, sensitive skin, paired with the pleasure of Kenma sinking down on him. They’re gently rocking now, getting themselves off just to the feeling of having Akaashi’s dick in their mouth.

They keep sucking him in deeper, and deeper, eyes watering, spit and precome dripping from the corners of their mouth, blissed out at the feeling. Kenma pauses for a moment, moaning around him, the vibrations ringing up Akaashi’s spine like electricity. They seem close with the way their cheeks flush, and the way sounds keep coming from their throat.

“Stop.” Akaashi pushes at their head, and Kenma’s eyes open, glassy and zoned out. “You’re not allowed to come until I say.”

“ _ Keiji, _ ” they whine. 

“No. No, you’ll wait,” he insists. “I’ll take care of you later.”

Kenma’s face sours quickly, but with a wrinkle of their nose, they press forward again, taking in as much of Keiji’s length as possible, their hand twisting around the base with confident pressure, a hard  _ suck  _ as they almost choke on his dick. There’s tears gathering in the corners of their eyes, spit at the corner of their lips, but they don’t relent, deviously twisting their tongue  _ just so  _ in the way they know Keiji likes. Keiji hates that Kenma can pull him apart like this. Hates that they’ve stripped him bare and raw so quickly, even as he spills down their throat with a strained groan. 

Keiji scowls when Kenma pulls back, licking their lips with a satisfied smirk, once again working themselves closer to orgasm. That wasn’t in their agreement. 

He slides his hand down, hauling Kenma back onto the couch with him. Kenma is reluctant to move, and lets out an offended cry when Keiji catches their wrist next, stopping them from their own pleasure. 

“What did I say, Kenma?” he asks, chiding. 

Kenma huffs, attempting to shake Akaashi’s hand off his wrist. “I don’t know.”

“No. Say it back to me.” Akaashi digs his nails into the inside of their wrist and Kenma nearly whimpers. 

“You said I can come when you tell me to,” they mumble, eyes averting. 

“ _ Exactly.”  _ This satisfies Akaashi for the moment, and he drops Kenma’s wrist, standing instead. “I’m getting lube. You’re going to stay here just like that, and then you’re going to ride me. Got it?”

They grimace. Kenma  _ hates  _ putting all the work in. “Got it.”

Keiji would never admit to this, but he  _ rushes  _ to find the lube in the bedside table. It has been so long,  _ so  _ long since he’s had Kenma all to himself like this. Kenma is always a brat, Kenma is  _ always  _ a good fuck. Having Kenma at his mercy? Now  _ that  _ is just a perk. 

When he steps back into the living room, he’s pleased to see that Kenma is—for once—obedient. Kenma is sitting exactly where they were when he left, and wide cat-like eyes stare at him as they await the next instruction. 

“Lay back, Kenken,” Akaashi instructs, sliding onto the couch, pushing them back gently with a palm in the center of their chest. Kenma hates the nickname, but they go quickly, flopping into the plush of the couch behind them. 

Akaashi doesn’t say anything more as he presses open Kenma’s thighs, running his hands irreverently over the soft, pale skin. He presses kisses to each of Kenma’s knees and then works his way up to about mid thigh before he gives a nice,  _ hard  _ bite. Kenma jolts, heels digging into the couch, back arching slightly. Akaashi bites back a grin when he looks up. Kenma’s eyes squeezed shut, Kenma’s dick hard against their stomach. 

He now takes the lube uncapping it and smearing it generously on his fingers. His other hand grips around one thigh now as he takes a deep breath. 

“Ready?”

Kenma nods. 

The first finger slides in easy. Kenma has always enjoyed being on the receiving end of things, so it’s not all that surprising. Akaashi wouldn’t be shocked to hear that Kuroo had fucked them just before they left. Or maybe, they’d spent time by themselves in bed, fingers inside, pressing against their prostate as they muffle noises into their pillow. Oh, Kenma would love that wouldn’t they? Would they like it if someone was watching? If someone was on the phone with them? What if Akaashi had walked in? Would they have stopped or would it have turned into something more?

Akaashi drives a second finger in to these thoughts, and Kenma keens, hips pressing back into the sensation, grinding in to take them deeper, harder. Greedy kitten. 

He obliges though, finger fucking them in earnest. Kenma can’t  _ stand  _ it. They squirm and whine, hands trying to grip at the coarse material of the couch, variants of Akaashi’s name spilling from their lips again and again and again as they fall into a push-pull rhythm. 

When he presses in a third finger, Kenma groans in relief, deep and guttural. 

“God, Keiji,” they gasp, hips rolling up. “I love your fingers. So long.  _ So— _ “ a long, high moan as Akaashi finally brushes his fingers along their prostate. Kenma’s back arches again, tendons and muscles in their thighs jumping. “Please just  _ fuck me _ already.”

Keiji doesn’t like their tone, but he can't disagree with the proposed action. 

He sits back, legs open to make space for them as he pats his lap. 

“Do it yourself,  _ brat _ ,” Akaashi spits. 

Kenma groans and throws their head back at the insult, and Keiji feels like he just won the fucking olympics. 

It’s not a graceful transition, but it’s a satisfying conclusion, when Kenma eagerly settles in Akaashi’s lap, easing down onto his dick, head hung and panting. 

Akaashi presses forward, pushing their lips together as he waits for Kenma to fully adjust. Kenma licks eagerly into his mouth, sucking on his tongue, muffled moans catching in their throat. 

The first jump of Kenma’s hips is sudden, and Akaashi barely avoids biting their tongue when they raise themselves and press all the way back down again, grinding when they bottom out. 

Keiji pulls back to gasp for air, eyes focused only on the ceiling as Kenma repeats the action. Again, and  _ again.  _

It’s easy, how their bodies work together, and Keiji is more than grateful to lick and bite and suck on Kenma’s chest as they steal sensations from Akaashi. The way they move almost seems  _ selfish.  _ They’re  _ using  _ Akaashi and he can’t stand it. 

Akaashi licks up the column of Kenma’s throat, his lips landing just below their ear. “Change of plans,” he whispers. 

Kenma pulls away to give a puzzled look before they’re forced back into the couch again and Keiji is driving into them with as much force as he can muster. 

Kenma  _ screams  _ as he hits his prostate. Fingernails claw at his back as they try to keep up with the near blinding pace that Keiji has started up. They press back as much as they can, chasing the feeling, chest heaving, legs wrapped around Akaashi as they whine and whimper for closer, deeper, harder, faster,  _ more, more, more _ . 

Keiji can feel himself getting close, and Kenma has to be desperate at this point. They stopped making coherent words a while ago, and when Keiji  _ finally  _ put a hand on them, the groan they let out is one of relief. 

He leans in one more time to instruct Kenma. 

“ _ Come.” _

Kenma spills all over his fist, their back arched like a bowstring, taut and nearly ready to snap. They shout with their orgasm, and when they relax, it’s with a sigh. 

Keiji thrusts in a few more times, Kenma clenching around him sending him over a second time with a loud moan pulled from his chest. 

He falls on top of Kenma, but Kenma doesn’t complain. 

They lay in silence for a while, only the sounds of heartbeats and labored breathing slowing as they melt further into the couch. Akaashi feels gross, but can’t bring himself to move. Kenma seems out of it, eyes glassy as they stare at the ceiling. 

It’s another few minutes before Kenma finally speaks:

“Aren’t you glad I shut your laptop?”

Keiji smacks him. 

(But not as hard as he could have).

**Author's Note:**

> come scream at me on twitter @catomiomi


End file.
